Bland's Bits

Bland On Bland – Jim

posted by Ian Bland on November 23, 2008

The theme this week for Jon’s JVG Radio Method on 3RRR is “JIM“. I knew it would be a good one this week. Why?
I suggested it to Jon, and he agreed.

Ed Bates is in his usual spot on the backing slide guitar.

Click to hear today’s poem…

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Jim

While the Hunts and money shared a tenuous bond you’d have hardly considered them poor
Mr Hunt was let’s say, “Self employed” – slightly downwind of the law

An SP Bookie his choice of profession; he’d be swimming in cash in good times
But most of his earnings went to pay bribes, solicitors, court costs and fines

The family scraped by on the government pension his Grandad generously donated
Well, not that generous, Centrelink hadn’t twigged he’d been thirty years cremated

James, known as “Little” Jimmy was the youngest Hunt of the clan
His school was the bar at the local pub running bets for his old man

In those days pubs were full of informers watching everything everyone did
“Little” Jimmy easily slipped under the radar – no-one suspected a kid

He had this cheeky, welcoming, disarming smile, he was impossible not to like
But after he’d left you’d check your wallet and make sure you still had your bike

Dodgy was all Jim had ever known, but no-one ever got hurt
No drugs or thugs and if your luck was down he’d even loan you back your own shirt

He made his fortune selling period furniture “Jimmy Hunt’s Authentic Antiques”
“Guaranteed Chippendale, two hundred years old” – well at least a couple of weeks

He’d scour the aisles at Ikea for anything vaguely European
Dip it in acid and add a few cherubs and bingo you’ve got Jacobean

Regency, Georgian, Baroque and Rococo all birthed in a shed out near Kyneton
Queen Victoria’s “one an only” personal chaise still graces half the boudoirs in Brighton

But Jim wasn’t happy, something was missing, there were many who claimed it was karhma
The day that he sold the ten thousandth set of Ned Kelly’s original armour

Jim walked away from his cheap reproductions and life as a black marketeer
He sort a new challenge, that respected his skills – what better than a political career

Where they valued his knowledge of free enterprise and they valued his talent for fibs
So proficient a liar they touted “Little” Jim as a future leader of the Libs

In the end he decided against public office; it proved to great a yoke
When Jim found out he had to first be elected, he cried “Bugger that for a joke”

Advertising suited his background; he called himself “Jingle” Jim
But he tired of his marketing colleagues – they were full of more bullshit than him

He was reading the business pages and saw what they paid CEOs
Share prices falling, retrenching workers, regardless, Director’s fees rose

15 mill wages, 10 million bonus, sundry perks, travel and padding
“Eureka” thought Jim “I’ve found my vocation, the greatest scam since aluminium cladding”

“Even if you stuff up completely – and you’re stood down, a miserable failure
You still get a multi million handshake – It’s no con – It’s Corporate Australia”

But there’s more than the wage and the handshake, once you’re in you’ve won the trifecta
Cause they’ll pay you a fortune to work one day a month and the title “Company director”

“When things get tough, people look for direction from these so called Industry leaders
But like glorified pimps they keep their snouts in the trough, self serving bottom feeders

Jim found his calling in Merchant banking and that’s where you’ll find him today
Above his desk hangs a sign with the caption “Who says crime doesn’t pay?”

© Copyright 2008 Ian Bland